Scarcity and worthiness
Intrinsically connected
I grew up wondering why my mom shopped in the husky jeans department of the store for me, instead of buying me Carhartt painter pants like every one else had (I mean, aside from me being at least slightly overweight, most of my life).
I also didn’t get the Roadrunner jeans I begged my mom for, so I could look like the other girls.
My parents would take us to Kmart, to the toy section and leave us there to ‘play’ until they were done their shopping, I’m sure annoying everyone around us.
My dad would buy us ‘treats’ at the store. That meant chocolate bars. He expertly chose everyone’s favourites then like some sort of mind fuck, he’d ask us to choose. If we chose the one we all knew was our favourite, he would deny us that one and let someone else choose, because we were being selfish and not putting others first.
Dad would also buy a 2L box of neopolitan ice cream, cutting it into the 3 sections, again, asking us what section we wanted. Let’s just say we rarely got the chocolate section.
When I was 15, I got my first job, because my mom said that if I wanted to buy clothes, I’d have to make my own money. We got the ‘Baby Bonus’ they called it at the time, in the fall, but after that, we were on our own.
Because so much was happening in my home (my parents split, both finding other partners fairly quickly, puberty, wanting boys to notice me, peer pressure, having curly hair when straight hair was all the rage, and other much deeper stuff) I didn’t know what to do with all of my emotions. No one ever talked about any of that stuff, any of the stuff I was scared about, insecure about, didn’t understand.
I got a job at the local donut shop. It wasn’t a chain, it was owned by a German couple, Gerhardt and Helga. It was called the Donut Mill. I worked there from 15-18.
It was hard work. I had to wear and buy my own uniform. I worked many weekend nights and early mornings, when my friends were out partying and having fun. (Oh I managed to do that too but I worked two shifts every weekend.)
I remember buying a bag of Tostito chips, the ones that kind of stank and left your fingers orange, a thick Dairy Milk bar and a pop at the closest store, walking home and gorging myself on it till I felt sick.
That’s where some of my hard-earned money went.
I did buy some clothes (that I always felt ‘fat’ in) but I also got folks to buy me booze.
When I was 14, I got drunk for the first time with some girls from school. Someone bought us a 26-er of gin and I chugged it straight from the bottle.
My friends had to call my dad to come pick me up when I couldn’t move from the hockey arena washroom, puking my guts out.
I didn’t drink for 2-3 years after that.
All that to say, I never learned the value of money. I understood I had to work, like it was my ‘duty’ to have a job, but no one taught me how to save or how to budget. That’s definitely not something we were taught in school.
As an entrepreneur, my dad had to file for bankrupcy with one of his businesses, I think there were two times he had to do that, and because my mom did the books, she got taken down with a business, at least once.
My parents got married when Mom was 19 and Dad was 21.
My mom wasn’t much of a cook nor a housekeeper, so our place wasn’t what you’d call ‘well kept’ and growing up, my house basically felt full of chaos.
I remember friends knocking on our door to walk to school and symbolically shutting the door behind me, and putting on the ‘happy face’ that everything was okay behind that door. But it felt like, for part of the day, I could forget about what I shut behind it.
The first place I lived on my own was the nurse’s residence in the town I grew up in. I, along with one of my brothers and two step sisters, all teenagers, had been given the ultimatum from my dad and his wife, go to church with us, or leave today at 5.
I went and stayed with my mom and her maniacal partner for awhile but eventually moved in to a room by myself.
I worked two jobs to pay the rent and buy my own food. I’d get up on the morning for my shift at 6, riding my bike to the Stratford Festival where I worked in the Green Room kitchen where the actors, wardrobe, and all staff went to eat. Those shifts typically ended at 2. I’d ride my bike to my next job at a local convenience store and work 4-midnight. And then do it all again the next day.
Meanwhile, my dad married a partner who was a hoarder just like he was, so they filled their home with stuff they’d gather from garage sales and flea markets, spending their last dollar on found treasure.
My mom lived with a partner who was stingy but a decent housekeeper. Mom’s final partner was a cook and housekeeper. When he died, my mom also became a hoarder.
Neither of them were taught how to manage money and never had the tools to teach us.
For a long time, as an adult, I didn’t think I was worthy of making good money. The first time I negotiated a contract, I had to have a conversation with another woman in a bigger city to find out what she made, and what others made.
Often, I would turn to my younger brother, as he seemed to learn his value (but let’s be honest, men are much more valued than women and the negotiating process is far different for women - but that’s another post).
I struggled financially at different times in my life. I carried debt, after going back to school, then as a struggling meagerly paid radio reporter in a medium market. I took on roommates or became one, splitting rent and utilities, always struggling with spending and saving.
I had my hydro shut off temporarily, and a few times risked having to live in my car. Money was scarce and getting food for my dog today, trumped paying a big hydro bill.
There were bright lights, times when I was doing well financially, and debt-free, some seemingly long stretches where I was able to save and even invest, but another job loss would tumble the house of cards.
It wasn’t until recently that I started to examine what has been passed down to me and that I continue to carry.
Money, as in romantic partnerships, for me, has been linked to worthiness.
I spend money on myself because I want to think I am worthy of whatever it is I have my eye on.
The trick is, I actually have to really believe it, and not use the ‘thing’ I’m buying as a validation of my worthiness, of it.
Trust me, this has been a work in progress, a very long one.
I’ve blamed partners but ultimately, I’m the one who must believe and embody my own worthiness.
And just like the previous post, where I was asking myself ‘What’s underneath this?’, I am also asking myself that question here.
What is underneath this?
Scarcity is a belief that there will never be enough. One side of that is hoarding, keeping everything, for fear you won’t have enough. That includes objects but also money, never spending your money because you may need it.
In my case, I never saw what abundance looked like in my family. Abundance, financial stability was for ‘other people’, ‘other families’.
My dad was an artist in his early life and moved from job to job, much to my mom’s disappointment and worry, being home with a young family.
I believe my parents thought that ‘rich people’ or abundant folks, were bad people, that somehow they must have cheated, or inherited their worth, not actually working for it.
I thought that way for a long time. And I’m embarrassed to say, I couldn’t even imagine what abundance looked like for me. I didn’t even know how that could happen for me. It seemed unattainable.
I carried around the scarcity wound from both sides of my family line.
I remember my husband and I sitting on the beach in Jamaica and having folks serve us sparkling wine to our chairs on the beach, and thinking I felt ‘rich’ and that this must be what being ‘rich’ feels like. And feeling guilty about it.
That had to come from somewhere.
What has helped me cultivate abundance (and I’m still working on it) are as follows:
Gratitude - Being grateful for everything I have - access to nature, food, shelter, the list goes on and on - This is the most important thing, to me, hands down
Understanding that abundance is limitless - My abundance doesn’t come at the cost of someone else’s (This comes from White Supremacy but that’s another post too)
Celebrating the success of others - Comparison is the thief of joy but celebrating the success of others shifts the frequency to abundance. Their success doesn’t come at the cost of mine and visa versa.
Owning my situation - Not blaming where I am in life on anyone else, including my parents. They may have been a symptom but once I am aware, it’s up to me to shift. (This one has been particularly hard for me, moving beyond the comfort of ‘the victim’ mindset)
Understanding that everyone is worthy of abundance, including ME! This goes back to abundance being limitless
You do not have to ‘be’ or ‘do’ any specific thing to become abundant. It’s intention and believing that it can be so, then getting out of your own way. And also imagining yourself in your ‘ideal’ situation as if it’s already happening.
Of course, I wish I could have seen this for myself earlier and that my parents and their families could have believed they were worthy, but feeling and healing is also part of it. You have to be willing to examine where, and why you’re stuck.
All of my memories, good and bad, have brought me to an awareness of some kind.
This one is big for me.